When Michael opened his mouth, Aunt Lindy held up her hand. “Hear me out. First, you had parents who loved you and did not leave you by choice. Second, you were fifteen when this happened. Anthony was five. Third, you had me, a constant source of both love and support before the accident as well as after. Anthony was not that fortunate.”
“I know that, Aunt Lindy. I don’t know what would have happened to me without you.”
“You very possibly would have died,” she said matter-of-factly. “But I’m not telling you all this to make you feel gratitude to me, but you do need to realize how very different things are for Anthony.” She paused a moment. “Do you remember Roxanne?”
“I’ve tried, but no, I don’t. Is there some reason I should?” Michael used to hate it every time he stumbled across a memory he should have but didn’t. Now he just shrugged it off since he could do nothing to change it.
“Not necessarily, although Eva did occasionally visit Roxanne to encourage her to bring Anthony to Sunday school.”
“I remember Mama teaching the little kids at church, but I draw a blank with Roxanne. Tell me about her, Aunt Lindy, the way you used to tell me about other things I needed to know but couldn’t remember.”
“We haven’t done this for a long time.” Aunt Lindy smiled faintly. “Let’s see. Where should I begin?” She leaned her head back in the rocking chair and shut her eyes to gather her memories of Roxanne.
Michael sat back down and waited.
“All right.” After a moment, she opened her eyes. “Even though Roxanne was twenty-five when you were fifteen, you would have definitely noticed her. She wasn’t only beautiful, she exuded sensuality.”
“Everybody I’ve talked to said she didn’t have any trouble attracting men.”
“She didn’t just attract them. She bedazzled them with those blue eyes of hers. They were midnight dark like Anthony’s but somehow filled with light at the same time.” Aunt Lindy gave Michael a knowing look. “I’m sure if she ever so much as glanced at you, your teenage hormones sent you into a tailspin.”
“I still don’t remember her.” Michael frowned as he raked through his memories. “When did she disappear?”
“Oddly enough, the week before the accident. Everything was crazy that week. You may not remember, but your mother was nervous about you being away at camp for three weeks.” Again Aunt Lindy smiled. “She thought you’d get hurt or homesick or who knows what. Dear Eva was a worrier. Then we heard about Roxanne leaving.” All trace of Aunt Lindy’s smile vanished. “While Eva was worried about you, she was nearly distraught over Anthony’s situation. She kept saying Anthony’s father should come forward and take responsibility for the child.”
“Did she know who the father was?”
“I don’t think so.” Aunt Lindy frowned a little. “If she had, she’d have surely told somebody then. She was so upset about it all.”
“Do you know who Anthony’s father is?”
“No.” Aunt Lindy’s voice was so crisp the cat raised her head off the couch to look at her.
“But there were rumors,” Michael persisted.
“There are always rumors in Hidden Springs,” Aunt Lindy said. Then she relented a little. “But you know I never pay much attention to gossip.”
“It might help Anthony to know.”
“And it might not. You see, you need to know, to remember everything, but for Anthony, some things in his past might be better left unknown or forgotten.”
Michael started to disagree, but again Aunt Lindy held up her hand to stop him. “Try to understand how it was for Anthony when Roxanne left. She was his whole world. Roxanne had long been alienated from the rest of her family, and rumors or not, there was no father on the scene. So when Roxanne went away, Anthony had no one. I suppose Vera has done her duty by him, but she has made the boy pay for it every day of his life.”
Aunt Lindy rocked forward in her chair toward Michael. “So you see, while there are similarities between what happened to the two of you, there are more differences. Anthony needs understanding and patience. He needs someone to care about what happens to him.”
“I do care, Aunt Lindy. Why do you think I’m trying to keep him out of trouble?” Michael thought of the footprints in Wilbur Binion’s barn. At least he’d gotten a good look at Anthony’s sneakers and the soles were nothing like the prints in the dirt. Of course, the sheriff wouldn’t think that was enough reason not to suspect Anthony. After all, a kid could have more than one pair of shoes.
Aunt Lindy leaned over even farther to pat his knee. “And you are helping him. He’s doing well here in our sessions together. He sometimes even talks to me about other things. Not often, but sometimes.”
“Maybe you could get him to tell you whatever it is he knows about the man who got shot yesterday.”
Aunt Lindy sat back in her rocking chair. “Perhaps, but I will not interrogate him.” The cat, reassured at last by the normal tone of her voice, jumped off the couch and climbed into Aunt Lindy’s lap. Aunt Lindy rubbed Grimalkin’s ears absentmindedly. “And I will not ask him about his mother. Even if he decides to talk about her on his own, I might not tell you what he says.”
Michael knew better than to argue with her. She’d tell him what she wanted to and nothing more. He ran his hand across the card table surface. He’d done homework under her watchful eye on this very table. “Why do you think she left like that?”
“I didn’t know her that well. I did have her in class when she was in school, but she was always something of a loner. Her father had a problem with drink, and the family was often destitute. When Roxanne was a senior, she dropped out of school, got a job out at the Country Diner. She actually lived with Billy Samuels and his wife for a few months until she found her own place. Everybody figured she’d be on her way as soon as she saved up some money, but then she had Anthony and seemed to settle down to stay.”
“But she did go eventually.”
“Yes.” Aunt Lindy pressed her lips together for a moment. “I can’t say anybody was surprised except that she didn’t take Anthony. She was bound to have a man lined up to help her, because that was how she got by, but she could have found a man who would take the child too. As I said, she bedazzled men.” Aunt Lindy shook her head a little. “I’ve just never understood her leaving him.”
“Buck said the same thing.”
“Buck was one of the bedazzled ones. He was married, but bedazzled nonetheless.”
“Buck claims they only talked about their kids.” Michael traced one of the scratches on the table with his finger.
“I have no doubt that’s true,” Aunt Lindy said. “Just because he was bedazzled didn’t mean Roxanne was. She never got bedazzled even in high school. She knew exactly what she wanted from any boy before she made eyes at them.”
Something about her voice surprised Michael. “Didn’t you like her?”
Aunt Lindy stroked Grimalkin head to tail. “I didn’t not like her. She put in her time in class, learned what she had to and no more, even though she had a good mind. She just wouldn’t believe education could be a way out for her.” Aunt Lindy looked up at Michael. “But why the interest in Roxanne’s disappearance? Do you think that could have something to do with the poor man on the courthouse steps?”
“Not really. Except for my feeling that Anthony knows something.”
“What could that be?”
“Hard to guess, but there’s something.” Michael blew out a long breath. “Who knows? Jay Rayburn has been passing by here on the interstate for years. Maybe he was Anthony’s father.”
Aunt Lindy frowned. “Do you have reason to believe that?”
“Not really, but it’s a possibility. Then again, maybe Anthony just thought the guy knew something about where his mother might be now. Maybe this guy had even talked to Anthony. I don’t know. As Anthony said, I don’t know anything.”
“Could it really be dangerous for him?” Aunt Lindy asked quietly.
> “There’s no way to know for sure, especially since I don’t know what he knows.” Michael met her eyes. “It could be that whoever shot Jay Rayburn is long gone from Hidden Springs.”
“And it could be that he’s not,” Aunt Lindy finished for him.
16
Malinda walked to the front of the house to watch Michael’s taillights until he turned off Keane Street. She’d watched him leave that way ever since he was a new driver. And sent prayers after him.
Please, Lord, watch over him.
As if it wasn’t enough that she had to worry about accidents, then Michael had chosen to be a police officer. No wonder her hair had gone gray years ago. Not that she worried about her hair. Clean and neat was good enough.
She had never given her looks much thought, although she’d always been pleased Michael did have her Keane broad forehead. A better facial characteristic on a man than a woman. It bespoke strength and intelligence. When he was a teen, he let his brown hair flop down on his forehead. He combed it back now, thank goodness, and it waved a bit the same as his father’s had at Michael’s age. While Michael’s features showed his Keane heritage, his eyes were Eva’s. Pure blue. Honest. Sincere.
Malinda breathed out a sigh and turned from the window. This room held so many memories. Here in front of a cheering fire she had sat reading with her parents and then visited with Eva and James. Malinda had moved out of the house when James married. Found an apartment just off Main Street. A nice place. Only three rooms. All she needed. But after the accident, she had no choice but to move back to make a home for Michael.
She ran her fingers over the spines of the old books that had been on the shelves ever since she could remember. The same chairs were grouped around the fireplace, but now the room felt so very empty. The ticks of the mantel clock the only sound.
On the first day of every month, she wound the clock. It seemed wrong to let it run down, even if the room’s life seemed to have run down after James and Eva died. Michael and she had made a new life in the back rooms away from the sad memories. Someday she hoped these front rooms would be open and full of life and light again and not just at Christmastime.
But that depended on Michael. Dear Michael.
Malinda spoke into the darkness. “He’s like you, Eva. He cares. Not to say you didn’t, James. I know how you loved your church, always concerned about your members.” Her words sounded too loud in the dark room, so she lowered her voice to a whisper. “But you, Eva, you were the one of us who could love without conditions. I want people to do right and so did you, James. There are standards, after all. But Michael. He has your tender heart, Eva.”
She shook her head and went back down the hall to her sitting room. People would think she was a doddering old woman talking to ghosts like that. But tonight the memory of Eva’s eyes seemed to be following her. Those honest, sincere eyes.
Perhaps that was why. The honest part. Malinda had never intentionally lied to Michael. She hadn’t tonight, but she hadn’t been completely candid either. The rumors about Roxanne still lurked in her memory, but none that could possibly be true. It was all no more than gossip. She wasn’t about to turn into a gossipy old woman like Willadean Dearmon.
That woman was insufferable. Some idiot had once suggested she should befriend Willadean since they had so much in common. Malinda could think of very little. Both spinsters. Both living in big, rambling houses. But that was it. Malinda went to work every day to pry open the minds of the next generation of Hidden Springs citizens and force them to learn something useful. Willadean’s father left her a sizable trust, which meant Willadean could dabble in work, clerking at this or that store through the years.
Not a thing wrong with being a clerk. A necessary job, but Willadean never lasted long in any place. Took too much time from her real calling of town gossip. No story was too sketchy for Willadean to repeat. She was quite capable of filling in whatever details she felt necessary.
That day after school, Malinda had the misfortune of encountering Willadean in the bank. A ridiculous pillbox hat like Jackie Kennedy wore ages ago perched a bit sideways on Willadean’s head. But the hat was not nearly as ridiculous as the story she was telling poor Aileen at the teller’s window. Malinda was at the next window, but she heard every word. Everybody in the bank heard every word.
“I almost witnessed the murder, you know,” Willadean said. “In fact, I do think I may have seen someone running around the corner of the courthouse. I could have been shot myself.” Willadean placed her hand flat on her chest.
“There, there, Miss Willadean.” Aileen had patted the woman’s arm. “You’re all right now.”
“I am now, but for how much longer? A killer is on the loose in Hidden Springs and nobody is doing anything about it. Not one thing!” Willadean had peered over at Malinda then. “The police in this town don’t seem to care if we are all murdered in our beds.”
May the Lord forgive her, Malinda wanted to smack Willadean. Twice. Let her turn the other cheek and she would smack it too. But she managed to simply smile and turn away. Three of her students were at the teller windows. What would they think if she let her temper get the best of her?
What would the Lord think of her?
She sank down in the rocking chair and picked up the old Bible from the table beside her. Eva’s Bible. All through it, verses were underlined and notations made in the margins of when James preached from this or that passage. Malinda had carried this Bible with her to the hospital after the wreck. A way of taking Eva into the room with her beloved son.
The Bible fell open to the verse from Lamentations 3 that became Malinda’s hope and prayer as she fought death for Michael anew each morning. She smoothed her hand across the page. Great is thy faithfulness.
She would continue to hope and pray each morning for Michael. And for Anthony and all her students. And yes, Lord, even for Willadean Dearmon.
17
Michael pulled his cruiser out of sight behind some trees on Wilbur Binion’s farm and settled down to wait. He hoped he wouldn’t have to stake out the place for too many nights. In fact, he hoped the thieves would be accommodating and show up tonight. Clouds blotted out the stars and moon, and the air was like a black cloth wrapping around him. Away to the west, lightning flickered faintly with no sound of thunder, while closer around him spring peepers celebrated the night. Down the road, a lone dog barked and made Michael think of Jasper. The dog would be curled up on the porch, waiting patiently for him to get home.
Michael tried to wait as patiently as the minutes crept past. He stared out at the night and shuffled through the events of the last two days, searching for a glimmer of something, anything he might be missing, about the homicide. Why was Rayburn at the courthouse? Did Anthony know him? Could Rayburn be Anthony’s father? Most important of all, who killed the man? The questions circled in Michael’s head, but no answers rose up to meet them.
Michael sighed and checked his phone. 12:14. But no signal this far out in the county. He’d wait a couple more hours, then give it up for the night. If the guilty parties were kids the way Michael suspected, they might not strike again until the weekend. Unless it was Anthony Blake. Then he might come any night in spite of his curfew on school nights.
But instead of Anthony’s old car, a new Ford pickup popped over the hill and screeched to a halt at the farm gate. Noise and light spilled out of the truck when the passenger side door swung open. The radio was thumping, and the two kids’ laughter sounded as if they’d found an elevator up to the penthouse floor of excitement. One of the kids climbed up on the metal gate and, with a loud yahoo, swung it open. The driver gunned the motor and threw up dirt and gravel as he sped through the gate.
Neither boy even glanced around for anything out of the ordinary. They didn’t know enough to be worried about getting caught. After the truck bounced across the field toward the barn, Michael radioed Sally Jo, who manned the dispatch center at night, to round up Buck or the sheriff, eve
n though he didn’t expect to have any problems making this arrest. He knew the boys. Doug Peterson and Barry Woods. Both kids whose parents gave them everything they could want.
Michael eased his cruiser across the grass without lights. It was going to be a bad time at the jail when these two kids had to call their folks. He hated this kind of stuff. Stupid kids.
The scene at the courthouse was every bit as bad as Michael had expected, with plenty of tears, drawn faces, and stunned disbelief.
The Peterson boy’s father pulled Michael aside and offered to pay any amount for the stolen property. Michael pretended not to recognize the bribe as he explained the charges against the two boys and how they would have to appear before the circuit judge the following week.
“But they’re just boys,” Darrell Peterson said. “Come on, Mike. Didn’t you ever do anything crazy when you were a boy?”
“Nothing I could get arrested for.” Michael leveled his gaze on the man’s face.
Peterson turned away in disgust, muttering something under his breath that Michael pretended not to hear.
After they let the boys leave in the custody of their fathers, Buck and Michael walked out to their cars together.
“You might as well have cut a deal with Daddy Peterson,” Buck said. “The sheriff will tomorrow anyway.”
“I know. Nobody wants those two kids to go to jail.”
“It might not hurt that Peterson kid. He’s a real wiseacre.” Buck made a face. “One more word from him out there at the barn, I’d have had to sock him for resisting arrest.”
“His daddy would have had your badge and run you out of the state.” Michael grinned over at Buck.
“It might have been worth it,” Buck growled.
Michael laughed. “I know what you mean, and that’s why I let them think there was no way out of this mess. At least they’ll have to sweat it out till morning.”
Murder at the Courthouse Page 12
